Monday, 23 January 2012

The downside of ugliness

You hate yourself, your body, your face.
You know somethings not so right about thinking like that but... Well.
It's not that simple to change your mind is it?
You watch bitterly from the distance as others suffer from their own shadow,
"I'm fat, I hate my nose, I hate my teeth."
They have no clue, right? No absolute clue on how this game works?
Because they're alright - infact, they hardly have a problem.
But you. That's different. You're just ugly all over.
There is nothing of yourself you like, and the clothes that cling onto your skin - uncomfortable. You hate them.
You've tried to use every powder and every colour on your face, but well...
That just made you look like a joke.
So what now?
Where's chapter two?
Are you really going to stay on the first page?
No matter how many times I tell you that you're beautiful,
You're never going to believe me.
So you may aswell flick over the page and see what else there is to see and know.
Your novel can still continue and flourish,
Without a perfect beginning.

The dawn of adulthood

I closed my eyes and saw fishes swimming in the sky.
I opened my eyes and the fishes fell and died.

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

Check up.

So I sit and wait and listen to the empty chatter and the footsteps and the bag rummaging over and over, keys found three minutes ago but the lady by the corner persists on seeing them so I listen with my legs crossed and watch doctor upon doctor pass by posing like school teachers with their high heads and clipboards, trainee doctors following like snotty uptight prefects. I guess then that makes the group of nurses down the corridor like support staff, echoing a stupid little voice when they tell you what you need to do. I don't feel like an adult when I'm in hospital. I feel trapped again.

Friday, 13 January 2012

A warmth for my own.

“You didn't believe me did you, but there are some promises I intend to keep.” He said with a small smile, but a full expression of guilt and regret. She said nothing and looked away from him. He didn't bother trying to make eye contact, but knew that somewhere in her empty shell she could hear him. “I'm even putting your past friend behind me. Moving on and everything. Even though they – and you – all said I wouldn't. Couldn't. But I have. And now I'm back.”

Back?” She repeated in a light, small voice that held doubt and twisted sarcasm.

Yes. Back. Guess you're not alone any more. So...” He sighed as he sat down beside her. “Why did you bring that past friend back anyway? In here? I thought you were the one to let go of him first.”

He said he'd come back.”

“But he didn't.”

He didn't want to.”

And so you still held onto that promise?”

“I believe some people
can keep all of their promises.”

But not him. You know that underneath all that warmth there is a darkness so cold that it'll freeze your lungs and force you to scream and cry in silence. But... I understand. You find that warmth comforting don't you? In this place, where there is no fire or colour.”

It's an empty space.”

But no more. Here, give me the lighter your friend gave to you.” She obeyed, focusing now on his hands with a suspicious look. “We can use it as a candle and make our own flame.”

Her eyes widened and she watched the small flame flicker from the green lighter. She curved her hands around it for a while, and peered close to it. Then, after a moment she moved her hands away and let it flicker freely. “It is... A small flame.”

Yes, but why only rely on one small possession to light this place up?” He stood up and walked outside for a bit, only to return with various items in his hands. “What about these?”

“Those aren't lighters.”

But the lighter you gave me has no fuel. You just believed it did. In this place, I think anything can bring us a warmth.”

“Then lets try.”

And so he put various objects in a small pile – objects perhaps only existing by memory, others tangible and still alive. Various books, pens, clothes, watches, stones and feathers laid by both their feet, and both him and her watched the pile glow a bright light.

He looked at her, and noticed she seemed a little different. Still empty but more closer to a smile. He then saw her hold a necklace that was glowing the brightest round her neck.

Decided to keep that one close huh?”

“Yes, this one is special. I hope that is okay.”

Of course it is my friend, for you are me, and I am you-”

“-And no longer shall we rely on other's houses.” She sang with a honest melody. “No longer should we burden them with our frosty breath-”

“-For now we can make our own flame,” They both held hands and began to emit a colourful hue. “And when our light becomes brighter we can give them the means to make their own too.”

Monday, 9 January 2012


Imagine everything we suffer goes into a large box.
Our physical illnesses,
Mental anxieties,
All the pain and the depression,
Everything, into the box.

I'd carry this box for you my dear friends,
But alone it's too heavy for me to carry.
However, I'll carry as much as I can,
Even if on the days when you can only carry a little,
I'll always try to lift the box.
Even if it gets heavier,
And even if we all get a little more weaker,
We are strong because we've made a box together,
Something we can share when the other is down.
And with the spare hand, we can pick each other up again.

Just don't forget that this special box is always here,
So there is nothing you need to hide.
No matter what it is,
It's our box,
So it's yours to use as much as mine.

Saturday, 7 January 2012

Broken Window

They say it's quiet. When you stay in your room.
When you lock the door, and sit by the window.
But the window is brown and dusty, and it only opens slightly ajar,
Revealing just a little of the garden below,
Where the flowers and the trees don't grow.
You can only see a faint outline of an old swing,
That you used to know as a child.
Did you look down and remember when,
Times weren't so dreadful?
Did silent tears fall from your cheeks,
As you remember the roses that used to sing,
And dance and laugh in the wind?
You draw the curtains,
The silence continues.
Yet dear friend, I know,
That inside you're screaming.
But there are petals you can't see,
Beautiful vibrant colours;
That fall to your feet.
Despite the darkness, there is never a time when you need to stay in that place forever.
Close the window, retrace your steps, and unlock the door.
There are always new gardens ready to bloom.

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Love yourself

Naked               body
Wrapped   in   warmth,
Soft skin against cloth,
Damp toes tickled,
By gentle rug.

Love your reflection.

I always liked the rain.
I may complain and moan but--
Rain has a heart... A mythical essence,
That wraps round your soul,
Makes you feel that you are alive.
Even if you're mind is in despair,
The rain tells you that you're living,
It assures you that you can still feel.
If you can feel, you can still be alive,
and you can still have hope,
for a warmer day ahead.

But then I would look beyond the curtain and scream.
Mirror reflect back naked body,
Stand still and then--
Cold wet shower,
Attacks my face.
Toes grip bath tight,
Wait there, upright,
Be Strong.
Like a soldier.
A minute later,
Orders seize.
Then a meeting face to face,
With own reflection.

Another scream, drop down to the floor.

But it's you.
Pick yourself up.
Start over.
You are who you are,
Wrap your arms around your chest.
Feel your shoulders,
Shivering, cold.
But alive.
You are human,
No matter what you are to others,
No matter what you are thought of,
You can accept your reflection.

Older Stuff

I've always used writing as one of the ways to deal with emotion and reasoning. In particular
'It began with a card', it helped me to figure out a way to deal with anger, and as cheesy as it sounds, to have some kind of sympathy and forgiveness at the end. 
Most of the time I use my own emotions to write expressively, probably 'The Rumour' was my most 'angry' poem/rant. When I read it I remember the anger I had felt - and even though I firmly believe in forgiveness and letting go of the past... Remembering your experiences and emotions which made 'you' at the time yourself and explained what your past self is like is important.

It began with a card

 And so it read...
                Fly!   If you want to.
You can if only you want to!
Fly without strings – nothing to catch your fall!
Say their name and no reply,
But you can damn well FLY!
Fly as high as you can – so no one can see you.
Fly over to visit – so they don’t have to come to you.
It’s all because they’re holding you in their heart...
When it’s convenient.
And they’ll let go, when it’s just as practical.
So lets fly!
Fly over to say hello, how are you?
Such bland conversation with no meaning,
The demand of thinking so demeaning,
Would you remember my name, if it wasn’t written down?
Somewhere on your desk, is there a note ---
Remember her name, on that day, write a card, make it
Fly! If you want to.
 -Only-, if you want to.
Fly one way, one direction.
Fly my way, a grand dictation.
Your only wish, is my decision,
Your wings fly towards me,
Like it’s my mission

I have to say it was kind of you,
 To think of me so fondly,
 Such happy memories you describe,
 When you saw me as a baby,
 Did you remember the colour of my eyes?
 Did you watch them grow and change?
 It’s easy now to see my face,
 New photos online to replace,
 The old ones you never had,
 The ones you never asked for.

I don’t think I’ll fly the course,
I’m eighteen now, I see through your cloud.
I won’t play along any more,
Though I'll remain at the same place,
To return your once in a blue moon messages,
And your birthday wishes and kisses.
I know you're busy, I know you have your own life.
But if only you knew how wrong it was,
To think I can so freely fly.

A true friend never drops a stone.

No, no, just no more. She can't say yes any more.
Burning flames, light the stone,
Never mind that, leave it alone.
Go back to the crowd, it's easy that way.
Abandon the flames, take it away.
You walk, you go, you leave, you know,
That stone gonna burn, gonna burn through the snow.
Let it melt away, forget it's decay,
She can't yes anyway. Any more. Any day.
She don't care, she's free now.Free from that small little stone,
A small little stone that's going to burn,
No love, no regret, no wish, no debt,
As long as she's not bound from that tiny stone,
She's fine, she's happy, she's alone.As long as she can abandon the stone.

But when that stone's flame extinguish,
By one true friend.
By one one true distinguish.
The little stone will remember,
Who set it on fire, and who saved her.

One small stone you could not save.
One small regret you have made.

The Rumour

After two years your whispers have turned into a direct scream,
That leaves me shivering,
And hurt.
I find myself in the dark room you seem so eager to push me into,
Because I am not you.
Because I am not like you at all.
Do you like me pretending not to hear,
your comments that you so loudly preach to eager listeners? Of your so called tales of my life, that you call actual 'history'?
Are you so brave in fact,
that every so often I can hear my name,
I turn to see eyes looking at me and mouths closed.
I turn away.
And you continue.
Is it easy because I'm open minded? Because I'm so gullible? That I were to think that you were not leading me to this dark, cold room,
but to a grassy field were perhaps, we could all just get along?
That's not how you work is it? I've learnt now. And I'm disappointed but...
I open the door and leave the dark room.
There is that field ahead of me – but it doesn't involve you. It's far more nicer than that.
Sitting in a circle are my friends – amazing friends. They speak louder words that you, and they have honest eyes.
They are true to nature, and true to me. I haven't needed to care any more, about your deadly remarks.
The ones that leak poison, the ones that hurt again, and again like a wasp's sting.
Because my friends are the cure, the remedy and the sun. They remove the darkness, and now you're affect on me has gone.


My ShoeBox

My shoebox has no windows.
My shoebox has no light.
And now my shoebox has a lid,
That is wedged on tight.

In my shoebox there are moments.
That one cannot share.
Of things like smiles and voices,
From everywhere.

I know that some people may not understand
The box I'm carrying around.
I know that some people do understand
How tightly I hold things close by me.

(They whispered about effort, distraction, lack of concentration.
They whispered about clothes, face, sexuality.
They whispered about things, they knew I could hear.
And they whispered about things, they thought I couldn't.
What hurt most?)

I also know that its already too late
To change what has been happening of late.
But I needed that time, to prepare
To be strong and kill that nightmare.
And continue...

So soon after, I will try harder.
I'll be as strong as I can.
I will practice, know and master.

And: Then I will build and make
A new shoebox for me.
And this one, will be just as precious
With every good single memory.
With my new 'obsession' embedded into me,
Letting go won't be easy.

And I won't let my shoebox ever die.


In a street full of dark rain, there walked a small shadowy figure known by the name of Silence. He was young, around the age of fourteen, yet possessed a particular cloud of despair and emptiness inside his heart that made his brown eyes seem so old and aged, as if gazing upon them would tell of a thousand stories. The boy strode, as all the members of his family did, to his destination with only a tinge of slight discomfort that would be hard to catch by anyone to who would walk by. The girl who walked beside him did notice however, the tinge of sadness, the ever-lasting burden that it was impossible for those marked with the Alliance to ever resist. She held his hand tightly, as they walked into the mist together.

Monday, 2 January 2012





Long lasting breath,
Beside me.
Ugly girl,
But happy.

Dear friend,

I'm going to miss you.
I'm going to miss you a lot.

You're a friend I've shared such great memories that I will always treasure and will take with me wherever I go. You are exciting, unique, and filled with unlimited kindess. You're so dang friendly to people, I hope you continue to make friends and you have an exciting new adventure. Oh. Make sure you remember that. Don't forget that you're an adventurous spirit - that part of you I know will never change. Never give up and always keep fighting. Good luck and be happy.

See you later.